Halfway to Hollin
by Staggering Wood-Elf
Summary: Pippin is having trouble keeping up with the Fellowship as they travel South of Rivendell towards Hollin. However, an unlikely friendship changes things... Not a slash, just friendship and cute hobbitness. Hope you like!


Halfway to Hollin  
  
Disclaimer: Not my characters, wish they were, but they ain't.  
  
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"Keep up, little ones."  
  
Pippin looked up, squinting in the bright sun, and saw Boromir ahead, standing some way across the rocky plain. The warrior was leaning on his shield, smiling down at the hobbits. The miles seemed to lay light on him, unlike Pippin and Merry, for whom every step hurt more than the last.  
"Why didn't we stay back in Rivendell, that's what I want to know, Pip." grumbled Merry. He was dragging his feet and was clearly out of breath, in no better shape than Pippin. The hobbits were now regretting offering to carry so much to take the weight off the rest of the Fellowship. Pippin's back felt like it was going to break any minute from the heavy load, and now they were being told to keep up.  
"I'm not cut out for all this adventuring, Merry. Perhaps you're-" he started to say, but suddenly his foot caught an uneven bit of ground and with a cry he slipped and fell down the gully.  
The rest of the fellowship turned at once, worried by the hobbit's cry. Aragorn drew his sword in a flash, ready to defend the company, but sighed as soon he realised what had happened. He sheathed his sword and carried on walking, striding ahead at the front of the company. At first Pippin wondered how he came by his name. Now he knew.  
  
"Get a move on, you two! Hollin Ridge is still ahead of us." he shouted back to them, his voice carrying on the wind. Merry didn't dare to disobey and with a regretful look, hurried after the rest of the company, limping a little from his blisters.  
  
Pippin spat out gravel and cursed, a word he'd learned from some of his more vulgar relations back in the Shire. He rolled over onto his front, wincing in pain. He had grazed both of his elbows in the fall, and acquired a nasty scratch on his cheek. He looked down and saw that his right knee was bleeding and he was sure he had bruises coming on the other.  
"Wait for me!" cried the hobbit, but his words were lost in the wind. He was about to get up and drag himself along further when he felt a gentle hand on his arm.  
  
"Pippin. Are you all right?" said a kindly voice. He looked up and saw Legolas, the Elf who had joined them in Rivendell. To tell the truth Pippin had always been a little afraid of elves, and their strange ways. Often he had woken in the night, either from cold, hunger or being elbowed by Merry in his sleep, and had seen the Elf walking up and down, singing softly to himself and the stars and tapping his long fingers. He wondered if he ever slept, as he had never seen him close his strange blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, Mister Elf, I'll be fine," he said, pulling himself to his feet. Legolas seemed very tall, almost like a great slender tree towering above him.   
The Elf noticed the hobbit's unease at his height and quickly knelt down so they were at eye level.  
"Do you need a hand back to our path?" he asked. Pippin was about to refuse, but then the Elf noticed his bleeding knee.  
  
"This looks painful. Sit down here, and I will take a look for you." he said, gently yet with a strange strength in his voice.   
"Oh no, it really isn't necessary..." Pippin began to say, but already the Elf had rolled up his trouser leg and was examining his knee.  
  
"You have a bit of gravel in the cut." he pronounced after a little while. "It's not life-threatening, but perhaps Aragorn should bind it for you. We still have far to walk."   
  
Pippin remembered the long journey from Weathertop with Frodo getting weaker and weaker. He remembered all the foul smelling concoctions he brewed up to ease the hobbit's pain, often so foul tasting they made poor Frodo gag and retch. He wasn't sure he wanted Aragorn to tend him.  
  
Legolas saw the look on his face and smiled.   
"So you would not wish for ranger medicine? Very well. I will just rub on a little of this balm to prevent infection, if that would please you more."  
  
Pippin didn't argue. There was a strange commanding tone in the Elf's voice, yet his speech was gentle and calming. Pippin guessed all Elves were like this, and he did not wish to cause a fuss. He watched nervously as he opened a small glass jar filled with a thick creamy substance. He screwed up his eyes, expecting it to hurt like his mother's salve for cuts and bruises back in the Shire, but instead it felt remarkably soothing and cooling on his skin. He smiled.  
"Thanks!" he said, but then he noticed how far away the rest of the company were. He could barely see them any more.  
"Oh no! I'll never catch up with them now. Soon they'll be out of my sight, and I can't run with this pack..." said Pippin, dismayed. Legolas smiled kindly at the hobbit.  
  
"Then I shall carry you and your pack, Pippin. My eyes can see for many miles further than yours, and I can run swiftly. We will soon catch them up." Without another word he hoisted the little hobbit onto his back, with no more difficulty than if he was lifting his elven-quiver, which also lay on his back. The feathered shafts pleasantly brushed Pippin's cheek. "Ready?" said Legolas, and the Elf began to run.  
  
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That evening, they camped in a dell behind a little cliff of rock jutting out across the hard landscape. It would offer them enough shelter for the night away from prying eyes, or so Gandalf said. The hobbits didn't care what prying eyes were about, they just wanted to throw their packs aside and rub their aching feet.  
Aragorn had agreed to a small fire tonight, as the wind had turned to the North and a steady cold draft was blowing over the company. Boromir was trying to get the fire going with two stones he had found, but the wind kept blowing it out. Aragorn stood, watchful and on his guard, smoking his pipe silently. Gandalf and Gimli were talking in low voices, wrapped up warm in their cloaks as they provided a little shelter from the wind for the hobbits.  
  
Merry was trying to get Frodo to sing for them.  
"Oh come on! Old Mr Bilbo told us all about your voice, Frodo. We shan't be happy until you've sung for us."  
"A good song'd cheer me up any day!" said Sam, while he was searching through his pack for his cooking gear.  
"Yes, it's been ages since we had a good old song. Not since Sam sung for us at Weathert-" laughed Pippin, but suddenley he realised what he had said. His face paled.  
"Sorry, Mr Frodo, I mean I didn't remember about... about..." he stammered. Frodo smiled warmly.  
"It's all right, Pip. I don't like being reminded about it, and I still feel cold sometimes, but you don't have to worry about mentioning it." he said, and Pippin was about to thank him when Boromir suddenley called out. The fire was lit at last, a homely crackling sound filling the little dell.   
"Right!" said Sam. "Vegetable soup tonight. Nice and hot. Merry, will you come and help me chop the onions?" said Sam, and Merry eagerly got up. The promise of good hot food was enough to make him forget his aches and pains.  
"Come on, Pippin. We'll make some tea to go with Sam's soup." said Frodo, and the two hobbits went off to look for a stream to fetch water.  
  
Later that night, Pippin stirred in his sleep. He looked around him, shivering a little from the cold mountain wind. To his left lay Merry, in a comical position with his mouth wide open and his hair covering half his face. He snored quietly, and seemed to be trying to fight Sam in his sleep. On Pippin's left lay Frodo, sleeping soundly and quietly, his breathing deep and regular. Pippin gently reached over and touched his right hand which lay outside his blankets, and tucked it in carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping hobbit. He gently brushed Frodo's curls off his forehead, and smiled. He cared so much about Frodo, especially after all he had been through. Tonight at least he seemed contented, and had some peace.  
Suddenley, Pippin heard his name spoken. He spun around guiltily, and saw Legolas, tall and slender, pale as a ghost in the moonlight.  
"It is my watch." he whispered quietly.  
"Would you care to join me?"  
Pippin nodded, and carefully extracted himself from his blanket without disturbing Merry or Frodo. Merry yawned in his sleep, but did not wake.  
Pippin followed Legolas to a small ridge in the cliff, low enough for the Elf to jump up and sit on it. However it was too high for the hobbit, so Legolas lifted him up first.  
"I could not sleep." said Pippin, but was not sure that the Elf heard him, so engrossed was he in the night sky. Pippin looked up, trying to see what Legolas saw.  
"Do you see? That - " he said, pointing to one particularly bright star, " - is Eärendil, sailing through the heavens. They say that star is lit with the light of a Silmaril. And that one there..."  
Pippin watched mesmerised as by speaking the Elf turned the night sky into a rich pattern of legends. Soon, there was a story behind every cluster of stars, and Legolas knew them all.  
"How did you learn all that?" asked Pippin, in awe of his companion. Legolas smiled, fingering the delicate silverwork on his quiver.  
"I am an Elf of the Darkness, Pippin. My people have never seen the Light of the Trees, so we love the stars all the more for they were our only light for so long." he said.  
"You talk as if you... remember this. As if you were alive in the Elder Days." whispered Pippin. Legolas smiled at him again.  
"How old do you think I am?" he inquired. Pippin blushed.  
"Well... I do think you look young, about twenty perhaps, but there's a... a certain... something..." Pippin trailed off.   
"Twenty? We Elves do not age as mortal men do. I have lived many lifetimes of men - or hobbits." he said. Pippin watched him in amazement.  
"I do not, however, remember the Elder Days. Although I wish I did. The world was untainted back then."  
"Like the Shire..." mused Pippin, almost surprising himself.  
"Sometimes, I wish... that I was just back in my bed and I'd never heard of Eärendil, or the Trees... or..."  
"The Ring." said Legolas. "I wish that too." He was silent for a while, brooding as he looked out over the lanscape.  
"I'm not cut out for quests like this." said Pippin uncomfortably. "I just get in the way... and under everyone's feet... I wish I'd listened to Elrond. I belong in the Shire, not out here in the Wild. And Strider-" he said, indicating the sleeping Ranger, "-must be fed up of me slowing his pace. But I can't help it!"  
"Strider is not fed up of you." said the Elf. "In fact you have surprised him many times with your bravery and resourcefulness. He told me that on your way to Rivendell, you carried twice your load and tended Frodo during the night so the others could get some sleep."  
Pippin blushed, but when Legolas put it like that it made him sound useful.  
"It was nothing. Any hobbit would have done it, for their friends." he said, looking back at the sleeping hobbits under the dell. Legolas smiled.  
"Then many folk should travel to the Shire to make such friends. Strider, as you call him, thinks well of you." he said. Then, he turned to Pippin and looked him in the eyes.  
"Tell me more about the Shire. It sounds a place of great beauty, and so close to the Havens. Tell me about your homeland." Legolas leaned forward, listening intently.  
So Pippin, nervously at first, began to describe the Shire. He told Legolas about the Green Dragon, and Rosie the hobbit-maid who Sam liked, and Bywater Pool in summer, happy hobbit children splashing about without a care in the world. He told all this to the Elf, whose deep, clear eyes seemed to absorb every word he said.   
"...and that's about all I know." he said, coming to an end after a while. Talking about his home somehow made it seem closer, and he was glad. The Elf seemed to drink in every detail. Finally, he spoke.  
"Truly hobbits are lucky creatures. I will visit you some day, and bring some of my kindred." said Legolas, gazing across the landscape. A long silence passed, each content with watching the night, until Legolas stood up.  
"Would you like to learn how to fire an arrow?" he asked. Pippin jumped to his feet eagerly.  
"If you'll show me!" he said. Legolas smiled, and quick as a flash he whipped an arrow from his quiver and put it to his bowstring.  
"I could never do it that fast." marvelled Pippin. "How did you do that?"  
"Centuries of practice." smiled the Elf, and Pippin once more felt daunted by his great age.  
"Watch me now. I will try and hit that stone on top of that boulder there." he said, pointing. Pippin gasped as the Elf bent his bow.  
"You'll never hit that! It's..." but with a whoosh of air the Elf loosed the arrow. There was a hit, and the stone cracked under the sheer force and fell to the ground. Pippin stood agape.  
Legolas saw his expression and laughed softly. "Now your turn," he said, gently placing his precious bow in Pippin's hands.  
"Oh no... I couldn't..." he said, blushing again. Legolas took an arrow from his quiver.  
"Just angle it like this... and place the arrow here..." he said, his hands guiding Pippin's. Strangely, the bow didn't seem too big for the little hobbit, and he managed to do all Legolas asked.   
"Try and hit that rock over there." said Legolas, indicating a small round rock on top of another boulder below. With Legolas's guiding hand on the bow, Pippin drew back the string and twanged his finger back. He shut his eyes tight as the arrow whistled past his face. There was a loud thunk.  
Pippin opened his eyes, and saw in amazement that the rock was chipped where his arrow had struck it.  
"I told you you could do it!" laughed the Elf, and Pippin handed him his bow back, a big smile on his face. The Elf reverently placed it in its holder on his back, being careful not to snag the string. Pippin watched fascinated how much the Elf cared for his weapon.  
When he had finished, he pointed into the Eastern sky.  
"The Sun will rise in a few hours. I suggest you go and get some sleep." he said. Pippin nodded happily. He was starting to feel tired again. He was about to scramble down the cliff, but with a firm hand Legolas stopped him.  
"No. I have already patched up enough wounded hobbits in this land." he said, smirking. He gently lifted Pippin to the ground, and set him down.  
"Thanks!" said Pippin. Then, "I mean it, Mister Legolas. Tonight has... meant a lot to me. I think I'll sleep better for it." Legolas smiled, and patted the hobbit's curls.  
"Quel dhû!" he said softly in his clear Elvish voice. Pippin scampered back to the hobbits' blanket-pile which they were using as a bed, and curled up in his blanket. Sleep came within minutes, and soon he was wrapped up in pleasant dreams.  
Legolas did not sleep, instead sat by himself on the cliff and in his mind, he explored the Shire as Pippin had described it. There was so much in Middle-Earth to see and do. There was so much worth saving.  
For the first time, he realised why he had been sent to join the fellowship. Before he had not really thought about the world outside Mirkwood, except for a vague longing for the sea, although he had never seen it. However, now his mind was clear. He would not flee Middle-Earth and abandon the Men, Hobbits and Dwarves like so many Elves had. He would fight until the end, for good or evil.  
The sky was turning all hues of gold, red and orange, the sun steadily climbing below the horizon. Soon it would be morning.   
It would be a good day.  
  
The End  
  
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A/N: Okay, I know the ending was cheesy, but whaddya think? I'm grateful for all nice reviews! Thankyou!! :) 


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